


Hope

by bri_ness



Series: Traditions [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Like really sappy stuff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bri_ness/pseuds/bri_ness
Summary: Isak and Even celebrate hope.





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skater110599](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skater110599/gifts).



> Dear Autumn,
> 
> I am thrilled to be your Santa. 
> 
> You are one of the first people I talked to in this fandom, and you were the perfect welcome into it. You've always been incredibly sweet and supportive, not only of me, but of all our friends. This fic is about hope, and I'm being very sincere when I say I think you give that to everyone who knows you.
> 
> I really hope you like this.
> 
> Love,  
> Bri

It’s not their first Christmas together, but it is the first Christmas that is theirs.

And thus far, they’ve claimed every holiday with their own traditions: on Valentine’s Day, they write each other letters; on Easter, they read crime stories to each other; and on Halloween, they watch _It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_.

On December 1st, Isak expected Even to buy them advent calendars, bring over a box of Christmas decorations from his parents’ house, insist they watch _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ (the original animated version, of course). When he comes home from school, he at least expects to be greeted with Christmas music, spiked hot chocolate, and mistletoe to prompt a kiss.

It ends up being a very normal day.

He’s not disappointed because he’s never been disappointed to come home to Even smiling, pulling him into his lap, asking about even the smallest details of his day. Those hands in his hair, those lips on his forehead—God, how could anyone be disappointed? He is confused, though, and a little concerned, and he knows Even can tell when he raises his eyebrows at him.

“You’re thinking about something.”

“Yeah, Even. Do you think it’s just tumbleweed rolling through my brain?”

“That, and how handsome I am." 

Isak didn’t realize he didn’t know all the ways to laugh until he met Even, but this one is sudden and overpowering, like happiness is the only thing he knows how to feel now. When Even smiles at his reaction, Isak vows to make him experience this kind of laugh too. “Fuck off.”

Even’s smile doesn’t fade, but it settles into something comfortable, restful. He brushes his thumb against Isak’s cheek, like he does more often than sometimes. Isak, full of bravado, once asked if Even was making sure someone as handsome and genius as himself could be real. Even shook his head and said, “No. Someone as good as you.”

Isak tries to live up to that.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, my love.”

Isak rolls his eyes at the nickname, but also feels the responsibility of it. To be the person Even loves, the one he makes shitty dick jokes to, the one he creates traditions with, and the one he holds—well, what a fucking a privilege that is.

Isak shifts so he’s facing Even, letting Even’s arm hold him in place. “It’s just. You haven’t mentioned Christmas.”

Even waits. He is the best listener. It is fucking infuriating.

“And I thought you’d be into it. Like, you’d put enough Christmas lights up to make this place a fire hazard, you’d organize a Secret Santa with our friends, you’d force me to wear a Santa hat—”

“Elf costume. It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“My point.”

Even gives Isak the chance to say more, brushes his cheek again. Isak takes his free hand and runs his thumb over Even’s knuckles, reminding him that _yes_ , by some miracle, this is real, and they can talk to each other.

“It makes you sad,” Even says in Isak’s silence. “Christmas.”

Isak, truly, did not expect this to be about him. “What?”

“Last year? You were so quiet after you came back from your parents. And when I finally got you to talk about it,” Even pauses and sighs, like he’s been carrying Isak’s sadness too. Isak never wanted to burden him with that, but he does feel to no longer be alone in it. “You said it was fine.”

Isak nods, remembering. His mom had a pretty good day. His dad, by all accounts, was trying. “It was.”

“But you said that was the best it got to be. Your ‘most wonderful time of the year,’ with the people you’re supposed to love most in the world, would only ever be fine. That’s all you got, and you know some people don’t even get that, but—you cried, Isak.”

Even kisses his forehead, and Isak remembers the way he felt that night. Not happy, but resigned to being content with what he had.

There’s a Bible passage he knows better than he’d like to, one his mom likes. _Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us._

He called bullshit immediately. Suffering does not, ultimately, produce hope; it forces realism. And when Isak’s let himself hope—things like _maybe my mom will get better, maybe Jonas will like me, maybe my dad won’t leave again—_ he’s been ashamed by how much he’s removed himself from reality. How close he comes to believing in fantasies, like his mom.

Like Even, too. The way he believes in stories, and people, and love, but has never been ashamed to be proven wrong. He keeps believing, keeps hoping. It’s a little infectious.  

How could Isak not be hopeful now that he loves someone like Even?

“It’s different now.” Isak says it with conviction. “I have you, Even. I don’t know how the fuck you do it, but you keep giving me the best day of my life.”

“Me?” Even asks, teasing, but almost like he can’t quite believe it himself.

Isak nods and kisses him. “You. But it’s not only that, I don’t—you’ve shown me that my life doesn’t only have to be fine. I can try to make it better. You’ve given me hope.”

“Hope,” Even repeats.

Isak nods, a little frantic now as he starts to understand the point he’s making. “I don’t know how to believe in God anymore, but I always thought it was a nice story. This baby gives the world so much hope that angels sing about his birth.” He pauses, remembering. “My mom used to say the angels sang when I was born, too. It got kind of dark when I realized she thought she actually saw them.”

“Isak, your mom’s known you as long as you’ve been alive,” Even says. “How could she not believe in angels?”

“Cheesy fucker.”

Even laughs, an echo of Isak’s laugh from earlier. And oh, good. Isak so wanted to hear that sound.

“Anyway, I don’t know about Jesus, or wise men, or angels, but I understand hope now. And I want to celebrate that.”

Even nods, twirling Isak’s curls through his fingers. “Ok. Our Christmas will be about celebrating hope.

\---

Isak makes Even think of words he’s never considered before.

Tonight, it’s _marvel._ To consider something with astonishment, wonder, and a sense of _holy fuck, I’m continually struck by how beautiful you are._

The astonishment, simply, is that someone like Isak exists, that someone can hold that much empathy, humour, and courage inside of them. And then comes the wonder: how did he keep all of those characteristics when he lost his parents’ support? When he was convinced the world hated who he was? When he was heartbroken and angry, how did he stay as beautifully _Isak_ as he is?

And every day, Even fucking marvels at him. How he’s started to call his mom every few days, the way he really listens to her. How he’ll mention that Sana, Eva, or even Jonas seemed off at school, then declare that he’s going to text them with a look of determination Even’s too familiar with himself. How on Even’s absolute worst days, and the days worse than those, Isak holds him. He’ll monologue about Even, without the eloquence of Shakespeare but with the sincerity of him. Or, he’ll just stroke Even’s back, kiss him in places Even forgot could be kissed, simply be there for him.

He’s good. He’s so fucking good.

Even can’t understand how he’s given Isak hope, but of course Isak’s given hope to him. Not in the world: Even’s always had that. People can be as beautiful as they are awful, love can be as romantic as it is tragic—he’s always understood that. But, Isak lets him believe he’s worth being part of the stories, that he can be with those people. People exactly like Isak himself.  

Isak’s given him hope in himself. And that’s changed everything.

Not immediately. He doesn’t always, or even often, wake up and believe he belongs in the world. But then Isak kisses him awake, asks him about his dreams, asks him about his day before it’s even happened: _what do you have going on and how can I help_? He sits with him while Even cooks them breakfast, sneaks kisses wherever and whenever he can. Throughout the day, he texts Even things like: _what are you thinking about right now_? He always responds to Even’s answer, always considers him. When they’re both home again, they talk—and oh, Isak makes him laugh so much. And when Even gets insecure about the whole thing, insists Isak could find someone to marvel at as well, Isak says things like this.

“I have you, Even. I don’t know how the fuck you do it, but you keep giving me the best day of my life.”

He doesn’t even know Even needs to hear it. He just says it, and that’s enough to make Even believe it’s true.

So, Even is excited for their celebration of hope. Their Christmas day is packed with church and lunch with Isak’s parents, then dinner with Even’s extended family, but they kept Christmas Eve for themselves. Even always preferred it, anyway: the promise of something is usually better than the thing itself.

Though, Isak’s made him question that belief as well.

Even cooks for them. They drink sparkling wine, they listen to Nas, they kiss for a little longer than they intend to. It’s their every day, but heightened by the idea of celebrating it. Even considers how he loves making things for Isak, using his time and talent to make him just a littler happier. He thinks about how nice it is to drink together, that they trust each other enough to relax and laugh a little louder than they normally would. And sharing his favourite lyrics, the ones that made him reconsider the world, with Isak, the boy who changed his world: it will always feel incredibly significant. Then there’s the kissing, which is always playful, always loving, and still feels new.

Even’s somehow more hopeful than he was hours ago. He’s more hopeful every minute he spends with Isak.

“Are you sad?”

Even’s as thrown by the question as he was when Isak asked first asked it in the locker room. He gives the same answer, “Of course I’m not sad,” and then realizes this might not be about him. Isak’s lying on the couch with his head in Even’s lap, so Even leans down to kiss his forehead. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you said Christmas Eve is your favourite day.”

“When?”

“July 17th, I don’t fucking know. But you’ve said it, and then you told me everything your family does. Opening gifts. Watching movies. Singing Christmas carols—God, your family is as cheesy as you are.”

Even smiles. He sometimes feel guilty that he has a happy family, but he’s mostly happy he can offer Isak one. “Yeah. I enjoy it.”

“But we’re not with them tonight, or doing anything special like that. And I know that you don’t want me to be sad, but I can handle Christmas, ok? I don’t want you to miss out on anything because of me.”

It’s funny, because that’s usually how Even feels. He doesn’t want Isak to take care of him, or worry about him, or even love him if it means Isak might miss out on something better.

Tonight, he’s more convinced than ever that he and Isak are the best for each other.

“Isak.” He shifts and guides Isak to sit up, just so he can take Isak’s face in his hands, take another second to marvel at this fucking beautiful boy. “I am not sad. I want this to be the night we look back on what we’ve been to each other and consider who we can be.”

“Oh my God, Even—”

“Shut up, it’s Christmas Eve. We’re celebrating hope. Let me be cheesy.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but nods for him to continue.

“And you’re right, Christmas Eve was my favourite day, but it would be weird if we did anything but what we’re doing right now. I just love being with you.”

Isak smiles, which is Even’s prompt to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Isak. And now that we’re passed that, shall we get to the main event?”

Isak rolls his eyes again, but his smile doesn’t fade. He pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket. “This is so cheesy.”

“Indulge me.”

Isak sighs, but reads what’s on his paper anyway. “Ok, my list of things that give me hope. You, of course. That Eva and Jonas are back together. That my dad hasn’t left again. That you’re applying to film school. That Sana smiles every day now. That the last time—” Isak pauses, then swallows like he’s choked up. “That the last time you were depressed, you didn’t suggest that I should leave you, or that you should leave me. That I can love someone, and that you can love me back.

Isak looks nervous when he finishes, but Even shake his head in wonder and astonishment. He marvels at Isak.

“I just wrote your name down.”

“Are you fucking serious.”

“I mean, I drew a lot of hearts around it. Actually, and a little cartoon of you.” Even shows him the page, which Isak examines with furrowed eyebrows.

“Why is my head always bigger than my body?”

“Because of your massive ego.” Isak nods: that’s fair. “But all those hearts, Isak? They’re all yours, and they spill out of you.”

“There’s no room for them! I’m so small—”

“You have a ridiculous amount of love inside of you, and you choose to share it with me. That gives me hope.”

“I had no _choice_ , Even. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

Well, most people haven’t, and that used to make Even think he couldn’t love himself either. But Isak did, and Isak—well, no one’s opinion means more than his, no one is better than him. Even trusts him completely.

Even pulls Isak back onto his lap, wanting to give him peace, rest, and all the love he’s capable of. It’s the least he can do in return for what Isak’s given him.

The kind of hope angels sing about.


End file.
